


you make this cold world beautiful

by perfectlyrose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Artist Keith (Voltron), Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, Witch Keith (Voltron), Witch Shiro (Voltron), they are Witch Boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/pseuds/perfectlyrose
Summary: “Mmm, pulling that seer shit on me again?” Keith teases with a raised eyebrow.“Ah yes, buying things my boyfriend likes to use is definitely a great act of prophecy,” Shiro shoots back. He ruffles Keith’s hair and then leans down to steal a kiss. “Go break things, babe. I’ll be out here when you’re ready.”“Love you,” Keith whispers, stealing a kiss of his own before stepping out of the embrace to head towards the workroom.Even on the worst days, coming home to Shiro is the best thing in Keith's life.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 141
Collections: Plausibility: A Sheith Zine





	you make this cold world beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> my piece from Plausibilty: A Sheith Speculative Fiction Zine. Find them on [twitter](https://twitter.com/speculativezine) and grab your free copy!

Keith stomps down the sidewalk, putting necessary distance between him and his workshop before the urge to destroy something flares out of control. He’s put too much sweat and love into the pieces there and the space itself to harm any of it with a half-second lapse of control.

People move out of his way with alacrity, even as people start to spill out of office buildings at the end of the workday to crowd the walkways. Keith doesn’t know if it's the stormy expression on his face or the crackle of barely leashed magic that is likely near-tangible that does the trick, but he honestly doesn’t care at this point. He wants to get home, get inside the heavily-warded walls of his and Shiro’s apartment, so he can vent some of this  _ anger _ .

He forgoes the elevator once he makes it to their building, opting for the six flights of stairs instead. It does nothing to cool him off. There’s a snarl twisting his lips as he unlocks the door with a spell instead of bothering with his keys. He slams it shut behind him with a far more unrestrained burst of magic.

Keith is planning on blasting a few things with a couple choice spells in their workroom and maybe screaming a bit, but he freezes in the space between the entryway and the living room as he catches sight of Shiro sitting straight-backed and cross-legged on the hardwood floor. The fading afternoon sun slants across his face, catching on his cheekbones and highlighting his snow-bright hair that’s pulled back in a messy bun. Seeing him freezes the breath in Keith’s lungs for a second, despite years together.

Shiro’s gorgeous like this.

He was also in the middle of meditating, if the pose and the lit candles are anything to go by.

Shiro’s eyes flutter open, revealing the flash of silver that Keith loves so much.

Keith drags the toe of his boot over the wood floor, biting back a wince. Shiro is especially sensitive while meditating and Keith just stormed in with bursts of magic and noise. “Sorry,” he almost-whispers, “didn’t know you’d be home already.”

It’s not really the apology Shiro probably deserves, but it’s all Keith can manage with the anger still bubbling just under the surface.

“Bad day?” Shiro asks, carefully getting to his feet and moving to extinguish the trio of candles on the windowsill before facing Keith again. 

He pins him in place with his gaze, soft and concerned as it is. Those silver eyes see so much more than most people even know exists or can exist, and Keith feels seen right now, feels lacking even if he knows that Shiro would never think such a thing.

Keith’s still in his work clothes, hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail and sleeves pushed up past his elbows, not having bothered to change before coming home. He’s a stained and rumpled mess next to Shiro’s casual elegance.

“Yeah,” Keith croaks out.

Shiro’s eyes stray to the space just around Keith as he steps forward to drag him into a hug. Keith inhales deeply as Shiro envelops him.

“Welcome home, baby.”

“Thought you had an appointment tonight,” Keith mumbles into Shiro’s chest. Thinking Shiro wouldn’t be home until late had been a contributing factor to Keith’s bad mood this afternoon.

Shiro’s a seer, one of the best, and he’s in high demand. One too many brushes with death on a personal basis only augmented his ability to part the veil of time and mortality. Keith fists his hands in the back of Shiro’s shirt as he tries to banish the memories of dragging Shiro back to the land of the living.

“It got rescheduled,” Shiro says. He nuzzles against the crown of Keith’s head, presses a kiss into his hair. “Your aura is a mess.” It’s a gentle nudge, an offer to listen.

Keith redirects. “You know you could triple your fee if everyone knew you could see auras.”

“I’m already getting paid more than what we need,” Shiro rebuts, following the well-worn path of this conversation. “And people would start trying to manipulate their auras around me and you know that gives me a headache.”

“I know,” Keith acquiesces. “How was the rest of your day before the cancellation?”

“Fine. Did some consultations down at the community center. Did the grocery shopping. Dodged a few calls from the Garrison.”

Keith snorts. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

Shiro laughs and pulls back just enough to be able to meet Keith’s eyes. “You want to talk about whatever’s got you in knots?”

Keith shakes his head. “Not yet.” He can feel the anger draining away, but he’s not ready to let go of it yet. He’s not ready for the raw feeling of  _ hurt _ that it’ll leave in its wake, even with Shiro here to soothe it.

“Okay. I bought some more of those plates you like to break at the store today. Go do some damage while I heat up dinner.”

“Mmm, pulling that seer shit on me again?” Keith teases with a raised eyebrow.

“Ah yes, buying things my boyfriend likes to use is definitely a great act of prophecy,” Shiro shoots back. He ruffles Keith’s hair and then leans down to steal a kiss. “Go break things, babe. I’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

“Love you,” Keith whispers, stealing a kiss of his own before stepping out of the embrace to head towards the workroom.

He closes the door and activates the full wards before pulling out the plates. He doesn’t reemerge until they’re all in smithereens from means either magical or the sheer catharsis of throwing a plate at the wall.

The smell of warming food greets Keith when he steps into the apartment proper again. He slumps towards the kitchen and is just in time to see Shiro pull a casserole dish from the oven. 

Shiro looks over his shoulder and offers a small smile. “Hunk was volunteering at the center today too and brought us a casserole since he still doesn’t trust us to eat well.”

“It’s been years since we were actually kitchen disasters,” Keith grumbles halfheartedly as he settles onto one of the island barstools. “Try kitchen magic  _ one time _ when it’s not a specialty and he never forgets.”

Shiro snorts. “It was a pretty memorable experiment.”

Keith makes a face.

Shiro quickly doles out two heaping portions of casserole and slides one in front of Keith before grabbing napkins and utensils and joining him. He sighs after sitting and looks over at the two glasses of wine on the other side of the kitchen.

Keith puts a hand on his thigh when Shiro moves to get up. “I got it,” he says. A quick hand movement and a bit of concentration brings the pair of wine glasses floating over to them.

“Thanks, Keith.”

Keith just takes a deep drink of the red wine instead of answering.

Shiro lets him stay quiet for about half the meal. “I’d say you were looking better but you kinda look like shit.”

“Mmm, sure know how to woo a man, Shirogane,” Keith bites out. “Wining and dining and compliments.”

Shiro knocks their shoulders together. “Your aura’s mostly settled but you look… sad.”

Keith stabs at a piece of chicken on his plate, shoulders inching up towards his ears. “You know that big project I was commissioned for? The large installation piece for some guy’s ugly mansion?”

“Yeah, of course. It was looking great last time I was at your shop.”

Keith puts down his fork altogether. “He pulled the plug. No warning. Told me in no uncertain terms that he would not be paying me the rest of my fee or taking the piece.”

Shiro’s face tightens, instantly angry on Keith’s behalf. “ _ What _ ? Did he give a reason?”

Keith is just tired. He sighs and looks back at his plate, not hungry anymore, even for Hunk’s cooking. “Same reason as ever, Shiro. Is it ever any different? Don’t know who passed on the rumors to him, but it doesn’t matter. Could’ve just finally decided to Google me or something.”

"He shouldn't be able to do that when the piece is almost finished. No one should be able to do that to you at any point without a legitimate reason."

"Being fae  _ is  _ a legitimate reason to most of the world," Keith reminds him. "It doesn't matter if it's a rumor or the truth, people don't want to do business with anyone who even  _ might  _ have fae blood."

Shiro reaches out to cup Keith's cheek, metal fingers warm as usual. His silver eyes are full of empathy and barely banked anger. "It's not fair."

"Life's not fair," Keith mumbles. "Maybe we shouldn't have sunk the money into my shop."

"Don't say that," Shiro says. "Having your own studio and shop is your dream."

"Having clients back out isn't any better than getting fired for arbitrary reasons or any of the other shit I got at my other jobs.” Keith pulls back just enough so Shiro’s hand falls away. “Just more expensive.”

“It’ll get better,” Shiro insists, craning his neck to try and meet Keith’s eyes again. “It’s awful and unfair that this happened, but you still have the piece to add to your portfolio and I bet someone will buy it. It’d look amazing in the lobby of a hotel or office building. You know Allura has connections. Let her use them for you.”

“Feels like cheating,” Keith mumbles.

“Well your asshole clients are cheating, might as well even the playing field.” Shiro carefully pulls Keith into a hug, nosing into his hair. “You’re so talented, baby. The world has to acknowledge it. They’ll be begging for the chance to work with you before too long.”

Keith wants so badly to believe Shiro’s words as much as Shiro does, wants to believe in himself as much as Shiro does. The reality is that people in general vehemently distrust and dislike the fae and those with any hint of fae blood. His art isn’t going to change the fact that rumors of Keith’s fae-ness are already out there, no matter how good it is. There’s nothing he can do to dispute the rumors either, considering he  _ is  _ a quarter fae. His heritage has very little to do with his witchcraft and the work and study he’s put into applying his magic to practical and artistic use, but people refuse to even consider that. 

Keith doesn’t want to have to carve out parts of himself for acceptance, doesn’t want to have to hide who he is and what he can do.

Shiro’s never asked him to, has always accepted and loved all of Keith, even at his most fae and in his worst moods. Keith thinks about the ring he made a month ago that is still sitting in a drawer at his workshop, waiting for him to decide the perfect time to give it to Shiro, thinks about how it will look on Shiro’s finger and the way Shiro will be able to sense all the magic, fae and not, Keith lovingly poured into the simple piece.

Keith nuzzles into the curve of Shiro’s neck and breathes deeply, letting it out slow. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Love you too,” Shiro replies, pressing a kiss to the side of Keith’s head. “Want to finish eating and then call it a night?”

“It’s only like six,” Keith points out.

“I think we can both use the extra rest,” Shiro says. “We can put on a movie and cuddle and pretend like we aren’t going to fall asleep in the middle of it.”

“Going to be the old timer I always call you?” Keith teases, pulling back to be able to see the mock-offense that Shiro always puts on when Keith brings the nickname up.

Shiro leans in to steal a kiss, whispering against Keith’s lips. “Absolutely. Join me.”

“Yeah, alright. But I get to choose the movie.”

“Of course, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/LionessNapping) too!


End file.
